Kyabajou No Ikikata
by Yamashina Risaki
Summary: Mikan is a natural born Hostess because she was taught to be one. Her parents had not realized how much their daughter had come to despise being the Club's Number One Kyabajou.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.**

**Summary: Mikan is a natural born Hostess because she was taught to be one. Her parents had not realized how much their daughter had come to despise being the Club's Number One Kyabajou.**

**Rated: T for Language**

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**キャバ嬢の生き方  
Kyabajou No Ikikata  
**_by Yamashina Risaki_

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_**Chapter One**

"_Few enjoy noisy overcrowded functions. But they are a gesture of goodwill on the part of Host or Hostess, and also on the part of guests who submit to them." _

– _Fannie Hurst_

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Steady. Back straig__ht. Stomach in. Chest out. Chin up. Inhale. Exhale. _She repeated the process in her mind, making sure there were no mistakes afforded. Her feet glided with feathery steps across the bridge towards her assigned sector for the night.

She wore a traditional, a _kimono_ to be exact. Blazing orange, designed with red petals of the deadly flower, a _Red Spider Lily_. Dark, auburn curls were held up with a unique pair of _Orange Jade_ chopsticks, leaving part of her frame rested naturally beside her ears. A simple pair of _Cat's Eye_ dangling by both her ears had held in contrast with her dark, amber orbs which shimmered under the reflection of the night's _full moon_. Her lips pursed perfectly into a line making her features close to_ flawless_.

Her delicate fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the _shoji_ before sliding it open. She knelt gracefully down onto the wooden flooring, her left hand placed over her right as she landed on the _tatami-matted_ flooring from the interior. Her head was bowed low, in respect to her customers.

She was taught and trained by the best, and everyone expected the best from her. As soon as she was given the order to rise, she saw them gasp. She fought her inner rationally. She never ceased to bring awe to her customer's expressions. That, she was disgusted. She picked up their whispers. They were of her.

She soon found herself shutting their voices out of her mind as she greeted, with a slight tilt of her lips which one could hardly call a smile, yet she was beautiful the way she presented herself nonetheless, "Konbanwa. Mikan Sakura _desu_."

She was the center of the customers' attention, yet again. She felt the glares, from the other hostesses who had been in the room since her entrance, directed to her. If glares could kill, or burn, she would had been long gone, or burnt to nothingness. Not the worst idea.

"Come over, little blossom." She distinctively made out the voice of an aged, salaryman sitting near the corner of the low table. She nodded towards the man then proceeded to keep the _shoji_ shut. She made sure her stance remained upright as she made her way to the man's side.

Once again, she knelt in respect. Her eyes traveled to the cigarette he had conveniently tugged onto his lips. Upon instincts, she lit the weed with the lighter she had professionally hidden within the flaming, red _obi_ which held her _kimono_ in its rightful place, with her left hand held upon the right sleeves of the _kimono_. Yet, such gracefulness and elegance were not appreciated, not in a place where they were labeled, hostesses.

After relieving a ring of smoke, the customer was offered a cup of _shochu_ Mikan had ritually prepared for him. Yes, it was a ritual. The way she acted around all her customers, she had long categorized them as a cycle. She would light their cigarette, pour a soothing cup of _shochu_ sealing a contract between an entertainer and the entertained, and then she would make sure they pour all of their troubles out on her.

"… and then he threw the whole stack of invoice on my tables," He paused to take another sip of the bitter solution which she was sure had burnt his throat, he exaggerated the next set of words, "Right in front of everyone!"

She soothed him with her hand against his plump back, she made circular notions to calm him down from the anger he was presently clouded with. And he did. He smiled sadly as he returned to gulp his refilled _shochu_. Mikan smiled, "Tanaka-san, please let this unworthy one attempt to take your frustrations away." She felt her throat went dry as soon as she drowned her intestines with the flammable solution.

His smile widened, only to conclude her victory. And she was always concluded winner in the end. She was born with it. The talent was hers and hers alone. There was no one there to compete, to throw her off the throne she had sat herself on for years, without much effort put in.

"Tanaka-san seemed to have taken the liking to you, Mikan-chan."

Mikan had her eyes fixed on the _Mama-san_. She held a similar gaze over the young hostess. Experience seemed to be the only difference between the two conflicting chocolate-shaded orbs. Ironically, she was the same woman who had spent nine months straight nurturing her in her womb and gave life to her. She was also the same woman who had thought her ways of an entertainer, a woman, and the seducer.

"Yes." Mikan answered firmly. The woman does not like it when she spoke soft.

The woman smiled, proudly. Her eyes glinted and Mikan was sure it was caused by the thought of cash-rolling. This woman had always been the money-driven. Never had she once showed her the proper way a daughter should communicate with a mother. Everything was business. And so, she was taught.

"Trust me; he's going to bring in more business than you ever think he could."

Mikan dreaded. So she was right after all. It was all about business. It always had been. She silently laughed at her naivety for a hope so impossible like a family dinner or a random family gathering.

She nodded, respectfully. Her face held nothing but a firm jaw set. Despite having entertained a number of customers for the night, her features were still as perfect as it had been for the day. The way her hair fell above her powdered face and the way her eyes were kept shadowed, they were distinct.

Mikan took her leave silently as soon as _Papa-san_ came into the _Mama-san's_ sight. She was sick of waiting, and sick of hoping, that something more would come out of their daily make-out sessions. At least, she would hope one of them would take an initiative to joke a brother or sister for her so that, she would have someone whom she could turn to for comfort, for love even.

None came, as predicted.

Tonight, she let herself wander down the streets of _Kabukicho_. Tonight, she would let herself be served. Tonight, she wanted to let herself drown in an embrace which would keep her safe from her parent's cold shoulders. Tonight, she wanted to be an average seventeen-year-old.

This was the street she had come to grew up with, a place she would rather call home than her current. Pulling the _Orange Jade_ chopsticks out of the tight bun at the back of her head, her gold-auburn tresses fell onto her shoulders etching naturally around her shoulders' curves. She tugged the accessory into her orange-furred purse which swung handily from her grip. There were familiar faces of other hosts and hostesses from her parent's Club and she knew they had recognized her instantly with the look of surprise plastered over their face. But with her glare, they scampered from her sight.

As a hostess herself, Mikan knew which places she would love to avoid were and she knew the consequences which would follow if she were to act carelessly. She was surprised to see a Host Club advertise none of their Hosts. _The Unnamed_. She trailed her fingers along the title which was attached as a metal plate beside the button number _six_ in the lift. She had unconsciously made her way to the place, with her _geta_ positioned under her white _tabi_. She walked, without swaying from the height the wooden platform had caused, nimbly down the corridors.

"Welcome to _The Unnamed_!"

She was greeted by two rows of young, promising, and handsome boys. She was slightly taken aback from the friendly atmosphere they had offered. The place she worked for more than seven year was never this lively. She was literally dragged into the place by two look-alikes, whom she later learnt their names as Kokoroyome and Kitsunememe, Koko and Kitsune for short.

"Is this your first time to _The Unnamed_?"

Mikan nodded to the blonde, blue-eyed host who looked so friendly she would have mistake him as a non-potential customer. She shook the idea off instantly, silently cursed the way she had been brought up. The _Mama-san_ had definitely rubbed her habits on her, the wrong way.

Ruka. He introduced. Her face scrunched up when she saw him chuckle at her unresponsiveness. He said something about knowing the perfect host for her then left her by the furry lounge sofa. A tired sigh escaped her pink-glossed lips as she brought her cup of _Margarita_ to her lips. She could faintly taste the orange-flavored liqueur before she took another sip of the salted tequila which soon lured her into another sip, this time she could taste the bitterness despite being a lime flavored beverage.

She had not realized a host was already assigned to her, sitting right opposite of her. If she had not been so enticed by the cup of tequila, she would have noticed him studying her with his intense, blood, crimson orbs closely. She ran her tongue over her lips, licking excessive salt off. Just as she was about to place her cup down, a callous hand held out to her glass. She lifted her head in surprise, only to find herself caught within two deep pools of blood, red depths.

"Hyuuga Natsume." He offered, with a smirk.

Mikan stared. It took her a while before she realized he was expecting her to acknowledge his presence by speaking. She bowed slightly as she gave her introduction as well, "Hyuuga-san. Sakura Mikan _desu_."

He eyed her posture, mentally took note of her professionalism. Ruka did tell him it was her first time here. But, that blonde would not miss out the way she talked, unless, he had not gotten her to talk. The way she presented herself was the same way any host would to their customers.

"Natsume." He insisted, taking his place beside her. He noted the way she straightened her posture to his advance. She was reacting instinctively. Smiling, Natsume slung his right arm lazily onto the back of the sofa, landing just beside her shoulders, brushing lightly against the silky material of her _kimono_, he suggested, "What would you like me to do? Mi-chan?"

Her head tilted innocently to the side as she picked up the foreign name, "Mi-chan?"

Natsume chuckled. She was cute. Did she know that? He mentally checked. He continued, "Did you not like it?"

Mikan lipped the name silently before a small smile etched itself to her lips, "I like it." She softly added.

He had his eyes fixed on her petite form as she beamed at such trivial matter. He smiled, "So, what does Mi-chan want poor o' me to do to make her happy?"

Mikan bit out a giggle when she saw Natsume made a really interesting face, a really funny expression though. She smiled, "Natsume-san really knows how to bring a smile to the customers. It gives a very warm, tingling feeling in the heart."

He chuckled, "Would you like a hug? Mi-chan?"

Surprised, she found herself questioning, "You can hug a customer?"

The raven-haired host looked at her with an amused glint which she soon caught herself look away in embarrassment. He made sure he held her chin before she turned away from his sight. Her innocent amber orbs shone brightly under the Club's dim lightings. The tilt by his lips warned her he was not going to let go of her any sooner than he had captured her.

"Yes." Amusement never did left his eyes. She continued to surprise him in ways he never thought a customer could by leaning her face gently against his chest, her right hand rested beside her face on his shirt. She sighed contently. His arms encircled around her _obi_, and pulled her closer against him. Her face looked really peaceful as her breathings regulated.

"Hugging is a form of healing." Natsume explained, knowing full well she was far from being asleep, "Another person's heartbeat might help to soothe one's soul."

"I see." Mikan noted softly, "I didn't know that a mere hug could calm my nerves so much." She almost sounded surprise.

His eyes were fixed on her and he was starting to wonder why he could not seem to break his sight away from this particular customer. He asked curiously, "You haven't received a hug before?" He brushed a few stray strands of her golden-brown tresses away from her frame tugging them behind her soft ear. His gentle approach swelled something within her heart. She had never been treated with gentleness.

She shook her head lightly, still attached to his chest, she slurred slightly, "Uh uh. Never gotten any. She was more interested in money. He had no time for a daughter." He assumed she was talking about her parents. His arms tightened around her, assuring her that he would be there to listen. She sighed, "I wasn't taught to."

He realized he was lost. He could not fix the broken pieces she was trying to show him. Catching Ruka sitting by the bartender, Natsume motioned for a cup of _Ginger Tea_.

"So," Natsume started, "What does Mi-chan likes to do?"

Her eyes fluttered open, a light smile played on her lips. She pushed herself up so she could see his reaction, "I have yet discovered." As predicted, he looked shocked. She smiled, "Natsume-san? What do you like to do?"

He looked at her. Amazed at her talent, and how easily she had countered _The Unnamed_'s Number One host with her innocence. Pondering slightly, he smirked, "Club out, with my boys and their girls."

"Wow." Mikan stared.

"_Ginger Tea_!" Ruka sung his way towards the table. He passed the black mug to her casually, motioned for her to take a sip.

"Thank you." She answered shyly; she took the mug from the hands of the cheerful boy. Her curiosity got the better of her when she saw him sat himself down, opposite of herself and Natsume; she turned towards Natsume and asked timidly, "He's one of them?"

A low chuckle emitted from his throat, utterly amazed at how pure she had looked, "Yes."

"And Koko-san, Kitsune-san?" She pointed excitedly.

Natsume nodded with a smile, noticing how much her posture had slackened since the start of their meeting. For once, he felt it was an accomplishment. He wanted her to smile. He felt the need to see her bright, cheerful attitude she had hidden way behind her mask. Something about this girl, made him feel different. He wanted her smile for himself, a genuine one, which he was reward with.

For a moment, she felt happy for Natsume. He was so lucky to have a bunch of people who loved him. She covered her sadness with a slack grin. After taking a sip of the _Ginger Tea_, she realized the time. Gasping at the clock, she held a choke against the mint-y tea. Natsume's eyes shone worriedly as his hands worked on her back to soothe her chokes.

"Um," She started, rushed, "I have to leave for the night. It had been a pleasant time, Natsume-san, Ruka-san." She bowed, reached her hand into her bright-orange fur of purse, she fished the stack of tips Tanaka-san had handed to her out. She held it out to the dark-haired host who had been staring in awe at the amount she had fished out. That, was a lot of zeros! He wanted to exclaim. "Thank you for keeping me accompany for the night." Mikan held onto his hands which were rigid for the moment, and gently shoved the stack into his palm, "Good night."

She was about to leave when she heard him call out. Her head turned to see him running towards her with an expression close to confusion, "This is too much." He bit.

She looked at him in confusion.

"This amount," Natsume started breathlessly, "Is enough to buy me as your personal host for the whole year!"

Mikan gawked. He cannot be serious. Those were considered tips in her parent's Club! Then again, speaking of her parents, there was no time to lose. Not now, not ever. She did the only thing she thought was rational, "I don't need those. You can have them." With that, she ran off into the streets, back to her Club, her home.

"Serious dude," Ruka stared on, "She must be filthy rich."

Natsume frowned. His hand held onto the stack tightly, he muttered, "She is a hostess herself."

"No fucking way!" A chorus of shouts sounded from behind, which he highly believed were from his boys.

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**End of Chapter One**

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Glossary**

_The '__**kimono**__' is a Japanese traditional garment worn by women, men and children. It literally means 'a thing to wear'. _

_A __'__**shoji**__' is a Japanese traditional architecture, a door, window or room divider consisting of translucent paper over a frame of wood which holds together a sort of grid of wood or bamboo. These doors are usually designed to slide open, thus conserve space that would be required by a swinging door._

'_**Tatami**__' (which originally means 'folded and piled') mats are used as traditional Japanese floorings. They were traditionally made of rice straw to form the core, with a covering of woven soft rush straw, made in uniform sizes._

'_**Konbanwa**__' means 'Good evening' in Japanese._

'_**Desu**__', a Japanese copula, a word used to grammatically link a subject and predicate. It is often translated into English using the verb, 'it is'._

_A '__**salaryman**__' refers to someone whose income is salary based; particularly those working for corporations. _

_An '__**obi**__' is a sash worn with a kimono, or with the uniforms used by practitioners of Japanese Martial Arts._

'_**Shochu**__' is a distilled beverage native to Japan. It is most commonly distilled from barley, sweet potatoes or rice. Typically, it contains 25% of alcohol by volume. _

'_**Mama-san**__' is a woman who works in a supervisory role in certain Southeast Asia, typically those related to the sex industries, or those in drinking places as well. '__**Papa-san**__' may be used to refer to a man of a similar role._

'_**Kabukicho**__' is an entertainment and red-light district in Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan. Kabukicho is the location where many hostess bars, host bars, love hotels, shops, restaurants and nightclubs, are and is often called the 'Sleepless Town'_

'_**Geta**__' are a form of traditional Japanese footwear that resembles both clogs and flip-flops. They are a kind of scandal with an elevated wooden base held onto the foot with a fabric thong to keep the foot well above the ground._

'_**Tabi**__' are traditional socks that are ankle high and with a separation between the big toe and other toes. They are worn by both men and women with zori, geta, and other traditional thonged footwear._

'_**Margarita**__' is a common tequila-based cocktail, made with tequila mixed with triple sec and lime or lemon juice, often served with salt on the glass rim. _

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_**A/N:** Sinful Attempts, is not on hold. I have a chapter working for that story and will soon update. This story would not exceed four chapters because I personally felt I was trying to practice and brush up my writings here. But still, this idea had been something new and I hope something really do come out of it. I liked the idea of having Mikan and Natsume in the Host and Hostess industry a lot. I wonder if anyone agrees with me though. Thank you for staying till the end, so would you please do this writer-wannabe a favor by leaving a review of what you think so she could gauge if she had been on the right track? Till next chapter, peepos.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.**

**Summary: Mikan is a natural born Hostess because she was taught to be one. Her parents had not realized how much their daughter had come to despise being the Club's Number One Kyabajou.**

**Rated: T for Language**

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**キャバ嬢の生き方**

**Kyabajou No Ikikata**

_by Yamashina Risaki_

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**Chapter Two**

"_Tempt not a desperate man." _

– _William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 5.3_

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She was doomed. She had not realised it had long past her curfew! If the _Mama-san_ actually caught her not back in her room, her thoughts trailed, and shuddered. She had better hoped for the best during such times. And running in _kimono_ and _geta_ really had not been the best situation she could think of. She spotted _Papa-san_'s Golden Retriever snoring near the front gate. She would jolly-well become dog-snack if she were to brag straight through the gates. That pup does not like anyone but _Papa-san_ to touch her.

She cursed.

Everyone within the compound would be most delighted to see her punished and she was sure there would be no one sane enough to help her out of this mess either. Heaving a deep sigh, she prepared to ring the bell. A masculine voice stopped her however, causing her to snap her head back to the man who had his breath held against her bare neck.

"Sakura." His lips were dangerously near her ears as she fought a shudder which went straight up her spine.

"Reo." She managed to chew on her lips to stop them from shivering as his hot breath trailed against her bare skin.

"Yes, yes." Was he delighted? Mikan dreaded. He snaked his arms around her waist causing her hairs to stand on ends. She fought his deathly embrace around her with her purse, hoping it would somehow loosen his strength around her. Futile efforts.

"Let go of me, Reo." She gritted. Alcohol. She smelt the stench on him. His breath was all over her, causing her to stiffen when he mumbled incoherent words into her hair. She pushed and hissed, "Dammit! You fucking drunkard!" He fell backwards crashing himself unceremoniously onto the gates. Attempting to escape into the compound, Mikan found herself yanked backwards, toppling onto the ground raggedly.

"My tongue." Mikan held onto her jaw painfully, barely noticing _Mama-san_ hovering near the entrance. It was only when her voice boomed through the corridors, Mikan realised she was in deep trouble. She flipped herself off the pavement to have her eyes fixed on two fierce, almost murderous ones.

She felt her blood which was supposed to run through her veins, literally frozen. Not good. Her instincts told her to run, and stay away from the murderous intent directed at her, but her limbs had long lost the ability to do so. She snapped her jaws shut to prevent unwanted clattering of her teeth.

"As the Club's Number One host and hostess, this is a disgrace! Utterly!" Yuka exclaimed, dramatically, slamming her palms against the coffee table, shaking the room with the impact. Mikan winced when a few of the paintings around fell off the wall. They were all Japanese-styled paintings, _Nihonga_. The _Mama-san_ loved those paintings more than she loved her own daughter. Period.

"And Reo! You reeked of _sake_! An _Izakaya_ is no place for the Club's Number One host!" Her hand came slapping burningly across the red-head's pretty face, then wrenched a fistful of his waxed-hair up making him face her, her voice was as cold as steel with threat, "I promise I would personally strip your place if there's, ever, a next time. There are people waiting for their chance to overthrow you. Bear that in mind." Her glare had been deadly, and was enough to cause the twenty year old host to cower in fear and tripping his way out of the room.

The door slammed shut. Mikan was trying her best to maintain her straightened posture, trying her best to stop fidgeting by the futon. It would only irritate the woman more than she already did. She reminded.

"I'm disappointed in you, Mikan."

Despite fixing her eyes on the _tatami_-matted ground, her eyes had involuntarily returned to the woman before her. Her gaze behind the frameless glasses she had slipped on did not allow Mikan to breath. It was strong, and cruel, and had certainly promised punishment.

"I apologise for my carelessness, _Mama-"_

Her golden-brown tresses were yanked forward painfully. She bit onto her lips desperately to stop any indications of pain from surfacing, even until the extent of drawing blood. Yuka gritted through her teeth, "I've already spent so much time on you," She glowered, "I'm not in for disappointments!" She hissed, her face merely an inch from the young hostess.

Mikan shuddered, gripping onto the sleeve of her _kimono_ unconsciously; she managed to force her voice out of her already dried-up throat, "There won't be a next time, I promise."

"You'd better!" Their Club would be _damned_ if Mikan were to back out on them. Things could get worst if the young hostess, in another words, the source where money would be rolling in from, escaped from this place. Venom dripped from her voice, "I'd make sure of it."

"Yes." Mikan answered darkly. She understood why she was kept, and _pampered_. She knew the whole story from the start. From the first day the woman left her to learn how to walk and stand on her own, she knew there was nothing more than an investment to the person she should call, mother. She was merely, a tool, a tool which would bring her more wealth.

"You are to stay in your room." The _Mama-san_ commanded, "I will not tolerate escape attempts."

"I understand." Head bowed low, Mikan did not allow herself to rise until the woman took her leave.

"Sakura-sama." An old, croaky voice signalled for her punishment which she had complied with by following the elderly maid to her bedroom.

Her _geta_ clucked in rhythm. The trip back her room was filled with glares, evil smirks, grins and, well, laughter. She sighed tiredly; making sure the door was locked before she let herself slide down against the door to the ground. She hugged herself, rocking back and forth, soothing herself with the memory of a certain red-eyed host's heartbeat. She was surprised the minute she leaned onto him, she had already memorised his breathings, and the patterns of his heartbeats. It is true, that she had never received a hug before. Forceful ones by her customers or Reo did not count. That night had been the first time she felt this at ease, in someone else's embrace.

That night, it only took her two, young, yet wistful, red orbs to drift her to sleep.

"Mikan." Her name sounded empty accompanied by the voice which sounded from behind the doors. Placing her brush down neatly along her classical, European-styled dressing table, she planted feathery-muted steps towards the door, and greeted politely, "Mother."

The greeted nodded while she promptly invited herself into the room, to be exact – The room she had specifically designed for the Club's Number One _Kyabajou_. Her hands ran through the silky material sewn along the bed stand, and settled on the sheets.

"It's been a while since I came to your room, haven't I?" The older questioned.

Mikan bowed slightly before answering in a strong, confirm, tone, "It has been six months since you visited, mother."

"Ah." The _Mama-san_ replied, disinterestedly. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of her tresses behind her ears, "I have had a talk with your father the night before about your current performance. Indeed, you brought in more customers any _Kyabajous_ ever did before your career started. We've earned more than just profits within the last few years, and we would like to reward you."

Mikan felt her heart flutter, but managed to keep her expressions intact.

"Your father suggested day offs. I rejected." Cold, hardened orbs maintained the contact unwillingly, Mikan waited, "How about you suggest?"

The younger Hostess dreaded. _That_ was not meant to be a question, she debated. Her eyes levelled, "What _Mama-san_ suggests would be what Mikan complies to."

The smug look which plastered itself upon the older lady's face concluded how contented she was currently. Mikan had been sure, that was how she was expected to perform, and it disgusted her to have witnessed herself act like that.

Noticing Yuka's changed expression; Mikan could not help but wonder what she had gotten herself into. Yuka's following words had torn her facade off, literally. She felt tears welling up around her glassy, amber orbs as soon as the woman left. She had not realise her hands were rounded up into fists throughout the conversation. She did know how much effort she had used to keep herself from slumping down onto the cold marble floor beneath her feet.

"_As you know, Tanaka-san is from an infamous underground associate." Yuka mentioned, motherly._

_Mikan was beyond stun when she realised Yuka could speak in such a tone._

"_Last night, he was sincere enough to offer an agreement to your father in regards to this Club and you." Those eyes the woman before her bore were so similar to hers, but Mikan knew, she is nothing like Yuka. Her cold-bloodiness intimidates the younger. It often makes the hostess doubt their relationship._

_The smile Yuka gave Mikan made her hold her breath._

"_Tanaka-san is going to offer full-sponsorship of all the night activities here, including all expenses and the rental of this place, well, by all means; he offered these as dowry for __**you**__." The smile that plastered itself on the Mama-san's full-bloomed, rosy lips had never been as demanding as the current._

_Mikan almost stuttered._

The Mama-san is going to sell her to the client. Her right hand touched the right side of her cheeks unconsciously as she remembered how she ended the deal.

"_I love you, Mikan." Yuka embraced the younger and left a peck by her cheek._

Her eyes darkened. Chocolate brown orbs tainted with hatred and torment. Mikan could feel her body trembling in rage. She furiously wiped away the tear which had carelessly flowed down her face.

"_Hugging is a form of healing." Natsume explained, "Another person's heartbeat might help soothe one's soul."_

"Welcome to _The Unnamed_!"

The hostess jerked as she found herself in front of two rows of familiar young gentlemen. Horrified, was an understatement. She was stricken with panic. She had not just left the Club unconsciously during her punishment. No, she had not just attempted an escape. She-

"Mi-chan!"

She twirled towards the voice instinctively where she bumped her forehead onto the person's nose. "Ah!" She uttered quietly, making a move to apologise, only to come in contact with his well-toned chest.

"I-"

The crimson-eyed lad cut into what she was trying to express hastily, "It's really you! I almost couldn't recognise!" He gave a carefree chuckle. Examining her outfit with his glasses on, he gave a radiant smile, "You look really gorgeous, not to mention, charming, my lady."

Her face flushed scarlet. She gets compliments and praises occasionally from her customers but, the way Natsume had expressed brought it to a whole new level of meaning. Those words were, genuine. They kept her heart bubbled with warmth.

"A-Arigatou, Natsume-sama." The hostess bowed in sincere appreciation.

She had her left hand over her right resting against the right side of her hips and did a very polite ninety-degree bow. Her honey brown locks were tied in a high ponytail, held with a red snake-scaled patterned hair tie. Rather than blending in with her hair, the simple hair tie made her features more distinct than ever. As she curtsied, she made no excess movements to her outfit. And as predicted, she straightened her posture naturally when she greeted him.

She wore a black, patterned with fallen red maple leaves, _kimono_-styled altered dress whereby the front fell neatly above her knees and the back trailed down to her feet. The ruffle sleeves were off shoulder, only connected with thick red rope-like ribbon. A red, lacy petticoat nested neatly underneath the dress. A pair of blood red, thigh-high socks embraced her long, slender legs with black, satin ribbons criss-crossed by the back of her stilt. All of these were suited with a pair of six inched heel laced-up platform ankle boots.

A _warori_. Gorgeous plainly did not do justice. Natsume needed a stronger expression.

"You looked extremely ravishing, Mi-chan dear." Natsume leaned towards the sides of her earlobe slacking his frame against her as he got hold of her left arm, "Do I get the pleasure to date you, my lady?" He planted a kiss upon her right hand.

The hostess froze in shock. A date? She wondered if she had spoken out loud because she found two curious ruby orbs staring straight into her plain brown ones. "U-Uh-" Once again, she was mesmerised by those beautiful, and sharp, blood-red eyes before her. Her blush reached the sides of her ears when she softly responded, "T-That would be my pleasure, Natsume-sama."

"Natsume." He corrected, once again.

She uttered, "Natsume-san."

"Natsume-kun, if you must add a suffix." He stubbornly challenged.

Mikan took in his determined expression before deciding to give in, "Natsume-kun."

A childlike grin spread across his lips. He hollered into the doorway which leads into the club enthusiastically, "I'm off guys! Be sure to cover up for me!"

"Eh?"

It was moments later she realised she had hopped onto Natsume's Ducati Diavel and had long set off on the road. Her hands rested around his toned abs as she felt the fresh, morning breeze caress against her face. The ride had not been as fearful as what she had always been told. The raven-haired man before her did not question her presence that morning. He perked her curiosity. He intrigued her. Yet, it did not make sense because all he ever did was greeting her.

It is impossible to fall for someone so easily, right?

In fact, she would not want to bring someone as gentle as him into her world.

Come to think of it, can a mere host afford such a hot bike? Not that she could help thinking, he reeked of mysteriousness. She tilted her head towards the side and rested her ear against his back. His heartbeats are indeed very soothing to her ears, and mind. She felt all her worries and troubles subside against him. It was incredible.

"Mi-chan," He was the first to break the peaceful silence, "I thought you will never appear at the club again after the goodbye you gave yesterday."

Mikan recalled yesterday and she really couldn't blame him for thinking that. Even she had thought she would never get to visit _The Unnamed_ again. Yet she did. Despite knowing the consequences she ought to face if she were to ever get caught by the _Mama-san_. _If_, that is.

"I escaped." She did not know what came over her to tell this to a complete stranger. She only felt that he is one whom she can trust. She might regret in near future, but at present, she needed someone to tell, "This morning, I escaped."

They came to a stop before the foot a shrine. Mikan instinctively unfastened herself from Natsume's frame bashfully. She had not been aware the sudden change in the young host's expression. If she were to be more attentive, she would have seen a glint of smile within his eyes.

"Does that make you a free soul?"

Her bangs swayed along with the light gush of wind which had picked up its pace even more so when Natsume draw a few strands of her locks to his lips, inhaling the mild strawberry scent that lingered within. His gentleness surprised her. Was it because he was trained to be a host? Or that-

"Because you looked so broken." He answered mindlessly.

"Eh?" Flabbergasted, this time she was sure she did not speak at all.

"It's all over your face," Natsume pointed, "You wanted to know the reason for my gentleness. Truthfully, I am surprised at my own actions as well. I have never been interested enough to bug into other's personal lives. You are just, different." He ruffled his hair embarrassedly.

She picked up her pace beside him as she finished climbing the long staircases up to the entrance of the shrine. She recognised the fact that he had taken interest in her. Yet what is this disappointment she is presently feeling? She glanced over to take a closer look at his perfect features. His precious ruby orbs over shines her dull liver-coloured ones. A slightly pointy nose that goes well with his charming lips... Ah yes. He is something, or rather someone, she will never have.

A taste of bitterness was forced down her throat.

"Mi-chan?" His face was scrunched up with concern.

"Hai?" She shook off unwanted thoughts and kept her expression in place to avoid further suspicions.

"Have you thought of your future yet? Like where you're gonna live and all." Natsume smiled.

Future? She looked at him questioningly.

"You mentioned you escaped." He pointed out casually.

"Future." She tested the foreign syllabus on her tongue. It never occurred to her that she would one day be asked about her future. The thought never even crossed her mind. All her life she was taught how to please her customers, _Mama-san_ and _Papa-san_. There was not a thing she did to please herself.

She realised.

"I..." She looked lost, but the two hopeful orbs before urged her to continue, "I used to love cooking, as a child." She saw him smile handsomely from the corner of her eyes. She wondered if her confession sounded childish to him. Embarrassed, she fidgeted with her fingers as her blush grew to the edge of her earlobes.

"That is a good start." The host suggested, "If you have something you like in mind, work towards it."

"But-" She held onto her tongue as she stopped herself from mentioning about her parents and the Club.

His expression suddenly turned serious. He saw how blood drained from her face at the mentioned of working towards her future. And he had the very slightest idea what was the cause for this to happen. The last text message he received from Ruka fixed the pieces.

_**Tanaka ordered his men on a search team for a lost hostess.**_

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**End of Chapter Two**

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**Glossary**

'_**Nihonga**__', literally translated as 'Japanese-styled painting', is a term used to describe paintings that have been made in accordance with traditional Japanese artistic conventions, techniques and materials._

'_**Sake**__' is a Japanese alcoholic beverage made from rice._

'_**Izakaya**__' is a type of Japanese drinking establishment which also serves food to accompany the drinks. The food is usually more substantial than that offered by other types of drinking establishments like bars or snack bars, and may be compared to Spanish tapas._

'_**Kyabajou**__', is a term literally translated as, 'Club girl'._

'_**Warori**__', or Wa Lolita, fashion combines traditional Japanese clothing styles with Lolita fashion. This particular type of Lolita fashion usually consists of kimono or hakama modified to fit with common Lolita garments. The bottom half of the garment is altered to accommodate a petticoat, or a kimono-styles blouse is used as a top to accompany a plain Lolita skirt. Outerwear can include a haori or adult-sized hifu-vest. Shoes and accessories that go well with a Warori are; Typical Japanese garb including kanzashi flowers, geta, zori or okobo._

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**A/N:** I am very honoured to have readers who private message me to ask about this story and when I would be updating it after so many years. Being the greedy girl I am, I thought I would hit at least 20 reviews before I update, but since it's already been so long, I should not hold on any longer. I have a lot of story alerts and favourites for this story but as compared, there were really little comments, I hope to have more readers voice out on this chapter, if not, I can hardly get motivated to write even though I have already wrote till almost the end of this story presently. Till then, with love!


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